


Just me and this damned cat

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-23
Updated: 2006-04-23
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A short fic written in Brians POV now that Justins all big in N.Y. Of course, he's not completely alone. He has his cat.song: You're gone by Something Corporate.





	Just me and this damned cat

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Hope you enjoy. ;p  


* * *

_**Taking steps back through the words I should've said to you.  
They all got lost, you went away.   
Well I feel sick and you just don't care anymore. Anymore.**_  
  
It used to be me, the wanted one. The sexy out-of-touch, the one who received all the attention, the one who earned the money. Even when we left Babylon, and took the walk home, it was I was who was recognized, despite the fact that you were truly beautiful, it was I. I travelled without you, going into and out of man after man. But I never forgot you. You were always by my side, no matter what, because I knew that if I let you slip away from me again, I'd never live to thirty seven.  
  
I'm the one who's forgotten now, because you're the big star and I'm the faded party boy who's yellowing eyes and taught wrinkles are beginning to show. All the smoking, the drinking; it took it's toll eventually and I had to have a break from this push and pull lifestyle. I was tired, mentally so worn out that I could barely hold a conversation with you and I hated that because you were so important to me and all I wanted to do was to protect you, and be the perfect boyfriend that you had always deserved. You never complained, you were so busy with your own life starting that I don't think you noticed very much.  
  
It must be that true, that when one thing ends, another begins. And while I feel old, and tired, and used up, you're just beginning your metamorphasis from a beautiful, aspiring, carefree kid to an attractive, popular, experienced artist. I'm so proud of you, just like Debbie and your Mother are, we all knew you'd do it eventually and I can tell from the gleam in your eyes that you've never been happier.   
  
I miss you though. More than I can every say to you in a letter, or an email, or over the phone. It's no wonder I drive you crazy when you are home, following you around and never leaving you out of my sight, because I'm so afraid that if I turn around you'll have disappeared again. You know, I think I'd get better quicker if I had something to do, something to focus on, but being alone in this huge house, with only the television and the cat to talk to...it gets quite depressing after a while. I'll sit with my phonebook and attempt to call somebody, but who wants to hang out with this old guy? I'm past it, and I realise quite soon that all of my so-called friends don't care what I do now, as long as I don't try to contact them. Bad rep, I think they call it. They're done with pretending to like me, they have nothing to gain now. And it's sad that I have no real friends, and nobody to turn to except you and this bloody cat.  
  
 _ **Hours to be with you,  
Minutes of me in you,  
And I can't feel this happening.**_   
  
The shadows are my home now, and I'm quite attached to them. I can spend hours just lying here, staring at the memories we used to share together. It's just me and this cat now, because you're so busy with your exhibits, and your interviews, and your own new studio apartment in New York, that you're never here. And you say I'm too ill to come with you, too sick to sit on a plane and laze around in a dingy loft apparantly. If I didn't trust you with my entire soul, I'd say there was something...strange going on. But I do, and I always will, because I still owe you for the filthy, dirty tricks I used to play on you in the beginning. And now with cancer creeping through me again and the treatements pushing it around I'm so sorry, god help me I'm sorry for not appreciating you. I'm so sorry that I wasted so much time playing the smart, arrogant prick who needed everybody to kiss my feet and pamper me with gifts and compliments. All I really wanted, needed, longed for, was you. All I wished was for somebody to hold me when it was cold at night. And you gave me that, but I threw it away the first time. And then a second. I count my blessings every day that you gave me a third/fourth (god knows what the number is) chance. I swear to god Justin, you have to believe me when I tell you I regret all of that. That through Cancer and hell I've found a new me, a new us.  
  
I tell myself that you aren't around much because you're living your dream, and that makes me happy, it does. I've lived it, I've felt the buzz and the overwhelming passion and I know how difficult it is to resist tempation. But I don't want you to burn out. I don't want you to one day be so high that you're never going to come back down to me. I couldn't cope with that.  
  
 _ **So tie my hands back,  
And make me feel you coming down.**_  
  
"Do you think he's ever coming back?" I never get a reply, other than a quiet purr and a nuzzle under my chin. I think that's her way of saying, "Of course Brian, don't be ridiculous. He loves us, he wouldn't lose us for that plastic lifestyle in New York. That's not our Justin, he would never fall into that trap." The logical part of my brain tells me you've already began to fall, since I can't help but notice you're in the flashy, A-list bars with 20 something guys with no shirts covering their rock hard pecks and their beefy bodyguards every night of the week. It sure looks like hard work sometimes, Justin, it really looks like you're exhausted. No wonder you hardly touch me when you are home. But the hope is keeping me going, and it's always the part I choose to listen to, giving this cat a biscuit and a cuddle for making me feel a little less uneasy. And damn if I know this cats name, we had picked it from the side of the road. She was dirty and alone and you took her back with us and named her something. Bless, this little ball of fluff has kept me from going insane. I always tease you for loving her so much, pretending that I'm not fond of her in the slightest but with all this time away from you, it gets awfully tiring to be a mute all day, every day. She's my new best friend. My only friend.   
  
Sometimes I wonder if you're even my friend anymore.  
  
 _ **It's hard to wave goodbye from aeroplanes.  
When I just don't think that you can see, I taper off.  
And say it's never worth the pain, but sometimes it is.  
**_  
You call your friends more than you call me. I know this because if I bump into any of them, or happen to be out with Mikey (he's the only one who ever liked me, and the only one who makes the slightest effort to include me in life there) they know more about your plans than I do myself. Hell, I bet your screaming fangirls know more about your lifestyle, your job, the fun you're having more than me. I wonder why you're keeping it from me, and try not to worry or panic, because I trust you, and you'd never hurt me because if you did, you could have just not accepted my apology all those years ago.  
  
It doesn't feel like three years, since this all happened. That one article changed everything. Three years of never seeing the your ice eyes for more than a weekend at a time, making love to you all night, before huddling with you in the bed because I can't seem to sleep well since the Cancer without feeling your skin against mine. I try not to read the papers anymore because it just makes me paranoid, and I hate to feel like I don't trust you. Because I do. You'll come back. You always do eventually.  
  
I try to call you but you never answer. You're far too busy and important to take calls from your boyfriend anymore. Your personal secretary does that, and I bet she never tells you I call. I figure so because you hardly ever ring back.  
  
"Do you think he's ever...?" She gives me that wonderful answer again, the one that washes all my fears away. Such a loyal pet.  
  
 _ **God I wish that I could make this right,  
I wish that there was something worth the time for he to give to me.  
A phone call from LA is my present,  
There's nothing left for me to give.   
I wish I could, and I know that I should but you know I know I won't.**_  
  
You've cancelled another trip home, and insist I'm hearing things when I hear a guy calling your name from another room. I miss you, and you say it back but I'm beginning to think that to you, words are just words. The moment they fall out of your mouth, they disperse into nothingness and there's no way of storing them up in little jars for keepsakes. I get myself upset and demand you come home, and you tell me I'm overreacting, and that if I'm so jealous and so paranoid, that perhaps we shouldn't be together anymore. I can't believe you're doing this over the phone, and you're trying to turn it around on me, like I've done something wrong. Usually I'm the first to blame myself, but all I do is sit at home and wait for you to give me something to do. How can I have annoyed you by giving up my life to be with you?   
  
Is that it? Because I'm not really extravagant, and popular, and the next best thing, is that why you don't like me anymore? Am I boring now that I've settled in this big mansion with its dark wood and rose scented air, with you and this damn cat? It's like our own surrogate family, and considering I left everything I ever knew behind, I can hardly see why I should be blamed for this. But it looks like I am, and now I'm so afraid of losing you. Sometimes I'll call Theadore and tell him im going to the meeting and show up. I'll try my hardest to keep up but I've missed so much even Cynthia is wondering if I'll ever have it again. After that second scare with Cancer Ive been so slow to get everything together.  
  
I want to prove to you that I can still do this. I want to show you that the depression is under control, and that I'm healthy and strong and that my muse is talking to me again. I want to write to you letters that make you tear up like you used to, to prove to you that I love you and I can't bear to be without you.  
  
But somehow, I don't think romance is the way you crave anymore. The parties, the fun, the alcohol...I'm not sure my liver can't handle that anymore and considering I gave that up so that I would still be around to look after you...well I almost feel like I should have drank myself to death when I had the choice.  
  
"Do you think he's ever coming back?" She jumps off my lap, her claws catching on my skin as she panics, leaving deep, pink scratches along my wrist. It was all I needed to know. She has never lied to me before.   
  
__**And you don't care.**  
Your face is on a billboard,   
And your everywhere.  
You don't care much for interviews.   
You're gone, you're gone, you're gone, you're gone,  
You're gone, you're gone, you're gone, you're gone away..


End file.
